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Showing posts from March, 2014

MARIANNE BYER'S COLLATION

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I endured my first steps into the morning.

The cold pavement greeted me.

The Son soothed me.

The road led to the first meal of my day. Christ in his entire filled my gnawing heart,
Like gentle morning dew,

He awakened me from my sleep.
Returning home the Son blinded my eyes,

Encouraging me to see the path

In which he was leading me.

Suddenly,

 Sounds and smells of my childhood


Engulfed me.


Sparrows,


Lilacs,


Blue jays,


And doves,


IT IS YOU AFTER ALL

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Passers-by admire, oh yes admire. Rich, moist, freshly-turned, seemingly yearning For Your gentle fingers to push through So many invisible layers with new seeds. A perennial or two perhaps You’ll grace me To stop this endless planting.
Ah, how no one knows The rich, moist, freshly-turned Feels raw to me, quite naked,  Fearful of the winds, the rains Flooding through to places in my soul Where no roots abound Only memories. Memories of untold, Unplanned, unexpected up-rootings. Memories of blossoms long since bloomed, scuttled, Buried for mulch or burnt Mercilessly in a pile of clippings, cuttings, Pruned limbs, not even dead.


It sometimes takes me days, Sometimes weeks, Sometimes many a conversation with You To open my eyes and see and hear, To notice this small patch “work,” Is but a small patch in an endless garden  Where I get to live with You Forever and ever.
So now that I have come to my senses, Will you please stop digging Around in this patch work of my soul, And find some other fool to cultivate, Season…